Mother's Day
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Heartbreaking and heartwarming moments in the life of the mother of the Master of Thunder and the Maker of Mischief. Movieverse
1. Chapter 1

_Heartbreaking and heartwarming moments in the life of the mother of the Master of Thunder and the Maker of Mischief. Companion to "Fallen Star" Dedicated to all of our mothers._

_The song in this portion is "Norse Lullaby" by Eugene Field. _

_Cover art by RaaiSesshyFan._

_FFFF_

Mother's Day

"_A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, _

_and cause peace to return to our hearts." _

_~Washington Irving_

FFFFFFFFFFF

ONE

"There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child - and an instinct to make any child who needs her love, her own."

~Robert Brault

Frigg let out a deep, deep sigh as she lay her aching body down on the bed and closed her eyes. Thor had _just _stopped screaming and fallen into an uneasy slumber. He had been born not long ago, and he was a tyrant—always hungry, always uncomfortable, always inconsolable. She could almost swear that the large, angel-faced, golden-headed babe had not made a single happy expression or sound in the whole of his short existence. Neither of them had slept a full night for what seemed like an eternity, she never managed to eat at the usual times, and her worry at her child's constant shrieking had flayed her nerves raw. To compound it all, Frigg had been forced to bear the burden of a newborn all on her own—her husband Odin was gone, swallowed by the uncertainty and distance of the war with Jotunheim.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at the tall, dark ceiling of her chambers. A single candle far off to the right, on her vanity, glimmered. She knew she would be rising up and lying down repeatedly during the night, as she had every night before—and last night she had stumbled over a pair of shoes in the dark and almost fallen into the crib. She dared not risk that again.

She took another deep sigh, hearing Thor give a thin grunt—then another. Frigg's face twisted as a headache throbbed through her.

"Please, go to sleep," she whispered, covering her eyes with her hand. "Please…_please_…"

Thor took a breath, and began to whimper in a nearly angry tone, and Frigg now pressed her hand over her mouth. She did not know how much longer she could take this—how much further she could be pushed before she just tore apart at the seams—

A knock came at her door.

Her eyes went wide. She sat up. Thor burst into a wail.

She got up, her long nightgown swishing around her ankles, and hurried to the door, her heartbeat racing. Someone at her door in the middle of the night—that could not be good. It had to be news from the front, from the war—it had to be that her husband…

_No, no, no…_

With shaking hands, she worked her latch and opened the door…

To a familiar silhouette in the doorway.

And the sight of it made her forget her baby's crying.

"Odin!"

She sang his name and threw her arms around his neck. Her hands took fistfuls of his soft tunic.

"Oh, my dearest," Odin whispered, wrapping his arm tight around her.

"You're alive—oh, you're home…You're _home_…" Frigg gasped. Her mouth found his, and she kissed him over and over, cradling his dear face in her hands—

And then she felt that something was terribly wrong.

She pulled back. The glimmer of her candle caught his countenance.

"Oh, my love!" she yelped, her hand fluttering up to his rugged face again, then withdrawing. "Your _eye!_"

For indeed, he only looked back at her with one of his infinite blue eyes. The other was covered in a bandage.

"Yes," he sighed, sounding infinitely tired as he stepped into the room. "Laufey took it." He turned, and shut the door behind him with his left hand. "But I have taken something of _his_, in return—though he seemed to have wanted it less than I wanted my eye."

And it was then, when Frigg fully saw her husband's tall, broad form clothed in dark garments given him by Eir the healer, that she realized he held a small bundle in the crook of his right arm, wrapped in black cloth. She went still. Slowly, her brow furrowed.

"What is it?" she murmured.

"Look," Odin urged, stepping up very close to her. Absently, she put out her right hand and rested it on his shoulder, then stretched out her left and moved aside a fold of the thick cloth…

To see a pair of glittering emerald eyes gazing right back at her.

Her mouth fell open.

"A _baby_…?" she breathed.

"Yes," Odin said. "I found him abandoned to die—I heard talk amongst the captives that he is Laufey's boy, but the King did not want him. Thought he was too small."

"Abandoned…" A pang ran straight through Frigg. She stepped even closer, pushing the cloth further aside. It was a beautifully-formed, pale little boy, his eyes large, green and bright. He was quiet, and very awake, but oddly still. She touched his forehead and cheeks with her fingertips. He had very soft skin—even softer than Thor's. The little Jotun baby watched her every move, seeming to focus on her face in a way that Aesir babies of the same age were incapable.

"He does not look like a Frost Giant," she mused.

"I changed the look of him—and he did not object to it," Odin replied. "For I knew as soon as I picked him up that I would not leave him there to his fate. I knew I would bring him back here, and see if any of the courtiers wished to give him a home. I did not think it impossible for at least one couple to feel a touch of compassion. After all, there has already been so much pain…so much loss, suffering…"

"Oh, sweetheart," Frigg said, suddenly overcome with pity for her husband, and she leaned her forehead against his throat.

Just then, Thor began to shriek in even more ear-shattering tones.

Frigg jerked.

"My son…!" Odin said, shuddering in sudden emotion. Gently, he passed the little Jotun babe to Frigg, and stepped across the chamber to the crib. He lifted his hand, and two wall lamps leaped to life, illuminating the corner where Thor's broad wooden cradle stood. Odin bent over the white cushions and blankets, gazing with incandescent, rapturous joy down at the child within. Frigg's heart swelled to bursting just looking at them—even though Thor was weeping with the force of a hurricane.

"Oh, Frigg…" Odin gasped, swiping at his eye. "You did wonderful work."

Frigg laughed, tears welling up in her own eyes.

"Thank you, my king."

He lifted his face and gazed at her.

"I am so sorry I was not here," he whispered. She shrugged one shoulder.

"You are here now," she managed, pulling one hand free and dashing away a tear. "That is all that matters."

He gave her a very long look, then turned and reached down into the crib, to stroke Thor's curly, golden head. But Thor hardly noticed—he was still bawling at the top of his lungs.

"What troubles him?" Odin asked.

"What always troubles him," Frigg said. "Everything." She stepped forward, absently bouncing the other baby as she did. She glanced down. The strange little baby still watched her, though a faint, odd frown had formed on his delicate brow. Then, he blinked slowly. He was sleepy.

"So he cries often?" Odin asked, straightening.

"Constantly," Frigg replied over the racket. "And I cannot discover why, or what to do about it." Sighing, but not knowing what else to do at the moment, she bent down and gently laid the little Jotun down in the soft blankets next to Thor. She stood up and glanced at Odin, rubbing her sore lower back with both hands. "I have asked the nurses, and the other ladies of the court—they have given me advice that I have followed to the letter, and still I can do nothing that will calm him down, or keep him from fussing or…"

She stopped. She stared at Odin. He stared back.

Thor had stopped crying.

As one, Odin and Frigg turned to the crib.

Thor was staring at the Jotun. And the Jotun was looking back. Thor's pout had transformed into a look of deepest concentration, his tears glistening on his cheeks, but forgotten. His brilliant blue eyes fixed on the other baby, his mouth was closed, and he was breathing so carefully it was almost like he was holding his breath. Then, he swallowed, and squirmed slightly.

The Jotun's lips tightened, his green eyes wandering over Thor's face. He wiggled, and his right arm flailed out and his little fingers hit Thor's nose.

Instantly, the two went still. Their eyes locked again. This time, it was the Jotun's gaze that sharpened in intensity—though both of their delicate brows had formed focused frowns.

Frigg watched with bated breath, not daring to move. Slowly, the little Jotun's unpracticed fingers spread out, and rested on Thor's face, right on his forehead and bridge of his tiny nose.

"Da," he said, as if pronouncing something very grave.

And Thor laughed.

It was the purest sound of delight that Frigg had ever heard. It rang through the room, sending thrills all through her veins—fresh as a morning after rain, and brilliant as the sun that cuts through as storm cloud. Frigg's hand came up and inadvertently pressed to her heart.

"Ha," Odin murmured, an awed smile crossing his face. "Perhaps _that _is what he needed."

FFF

Deep in the night, Frigg opened her eyes. She heard slight rustling movement inside the crib next to her. No fussing—just restlessness. She took a deep breath, and reluctantly pulled away from her husband's warmth. She slid out from beneath the heavy covers and set her feet on the floor, glancing back to make sure that Odin still slept. He did. She took two steps, and knelt on the rug before the crib, and rested her elbows on its railing.

Thor and the little Jotun lay close together, and the fingers of Thor's right hand were wrapped snugly around the Jotun's thumb. Thor was completely asleep, breathing evenly, his eyes motionless beneath his soft lids.

The Jotun was awake. Though the side of his forehead rested against Thor's, his face was tilted up, and he gazed back at Frigg steadily, as if he had been waiting for her. She smiled down at him. He did not smile in return—but his intense look softened, and the frown relaxed from his brow. Frigg took a quiet breath, and sang very softly to him.

"_The sky is dark and the hills are white  
>As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;<br>And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
>As over the world his cloak he flings:<br>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'  
>He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:<br>'Sleep, little one, sleep."'_

The Jotun blinked slowly, but still studied her, marveling at her. And she found that she gazed back at him with equal fascination.

"_On yonder mountain-side a vine  
>Clings at the foot of a mother pine;<br>The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
>And only the vine can hear her sing:<br>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
>What shall you fear when I am here?<br>Sleep, little one, sleep.'_

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
>The pine may croon to the vine to-night,<br>But the little snowflake at my breast  
>Liketh the song <em>I_ sing the best, -  
>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;<br>Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
>Sleep, little one, sleep.'"<em>

He blinked again. The smile gradually left Frigg's face, and she tilted her head, gazing deeply into the babe's fathomless eyes.

"I think I will keep you, Loki."

She paused, her breath stilling—but she registered no surprise. Loki. That was his name. She just knew it. Knew it as surely as she saw him there.

This was where he belonged—right there, next to Thor, forever. And she also knew that, from this day forward, no matter where he had come from or where he would go—he would belong to her.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ah! Thank you, friends! I recognize many of you who left me reviews! ;) Thank you for the support thus far! _

_These are short, as they are meant to be—but they are intense and important and loaded—and you will like. :)_

_And, um…the Forgotten Language of Flowers still applies. Wink, wink._

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TWO

"_Women are aristocrats, and it is always the mother who makes us feel that we belong to the better sort." _

~John Lancaster Spalding

"He's better now. His horse isn't, but he is," Thor informed Frigg very frankly, patting Loki on the shoulder.

"I'm sure he is," Frigg answered. "Thank you for taking care of him, Sunshine."

Thor, wearing his new red tunic and trousers, beamed at her.

Frigg had been arranging a large vase of red polyanthus near a towering window in her sunbathed, scarlet-and-silver chambers when her little Thor had hauled a limping Loki in and told her straight that they had been racing their wooden horses in the hall and that Loki had crashed most spectacularly—but he wasn't dead. Loki looked pale, and had a bruise forming under his brilliant left eye, and his dark blue clothes were torn. He stood awkwardly, his left arm hitched around his middle, his hand pressed to his ribs. He wasn't nearly as talkative as Thor, and his brow furrowed.

"Come sit down here, _alskling,_" she patted a cushioned chair next to the polished wooden table where her vase sat. Loki stiffly came over and sank down into the chair. Thor trailed after him, puffed up very importantly after her compliment. Frigg gathered her long white skirt up and stepped toward them, and reached down and brushed Thor's long golden hair out of his eyes. She frowned.

"I need to have your hair cut. Both of you."

"No," Thor batted her hand away and backed up.

"In fact, while I have you here, I'll do it right now," Frigg said, starting across the rug toward her vanity where she kept her scissors.

"_Noooo_," Thor cried, holding his hands to his head and running for the door.

"Well, then go find your father!" Frigg called after him. "Tell him I need to tell him something important."

Thor heard her, but he frowned fiercely and ran off. Frigg grinned, and abandoned the scissors, turning to come back to the pile of flowers—and Loki. She knelt down in front of him so that he was just a little higher than eye-level, and stroked his face and pitch-black hair.

"Are you all right, dearest?" she asked softly, now that Thor was out of the room. Loki watched her carefully, just as she watched him. He nodded.

"Yes," he answered. She raised her eyebrows.

"You sure?"

He nodded again.

"Yes."

"All right," she said, leaned up and kissed his forehead, then stood up again, and began again to rearrange her flowers. Softly, she started to hum, filling the silence with a pleasant, slow tune. The vase clinked as she worked with the flowers, and the sunlight through the window felt warm on her hands and face. She sensed Loki tilt his head up toward her, listening, staying very still.

She finished with the flowers, but kept humming as she stepped across the room, sat down at her broad vanity mirror and began unpinning her long, tumbling tresses that were even more purely gold than Thor's. She picked up her wooden brush and changed her tune, pulling the bristles through her hair with strong, gentle strokes, a small, inexplicable smile on her face. Loki still studied her from across the room.

"Mumma," he said quietly.

"Yes, _alskling,_" she said, setting the brush down and beginning to braid her hair.

"What is it you need to tell Papa?"

Her smile broadened, but she managed to suppress it.

"Nothing important."

He weighed her words for a while. She finished braiding, tied it off, then got up to search for her jewelry box.

"You said it _was _important_," _Loki recalled. Frigg still smiled—but she was not ready to tell. Not until she had told Odin. She glanced around, realized her jewelry box was not on her vanity, and started back across the room to her nightstand.

She stopped.

Loki was looking at her narrowly—in a way that pinned her to the floor. She blinked, and did not move.

And then an expression of profound understanding washed over his small, serious face.

He got up. Slowly, he crossed to her, and stood in front of her for a long moment. And then, he lowered his eyes from her face, and stared intently at her abdomen.

Frigg felt her heartbeat accelerate.

Loki stepped toward her, very close. Then, he wrapped his arms around her middle, tight, and kissed her belly. He nuzzled his nose into her soft gown, squeezed her…

Then lifted his face and looked straight up at her, and gave her a dazzling smile.

She smiled fully back at him, and leaned down a little so she could wrap her arms around him and kiss his raven head over and over.

"You wanted to see me?"

Frigg lifted her clouded eyes to see her tall, red-clad husband standing in the doorway. She let go of Loki with one hand to swipe at her face.

"Yes," she nodded. "I…I have something to tell you."

Odin's gaze searched her face, but fell upon Loki when the little boy spoke.

"She just told me," Loki grinned, hugging her tighter. "Mumma's going to have a baby."

TO BE CONTINUED

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	3. Chapter 3

_Ah! What fun people I have reviewing this! I love reading your thoughts—just love it. :D Thank you, keep it up, and enjoy!_

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THREE

"_The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. _

_She never existed before. _

_The woman existed, but the mother, never. _

_A mother is something absolutely new."_

~Rajneesh

The healing ward was quiet now, and Frigg lay in a new, clean bed swathed in white sheets. She had propped herself up on a mountain of down pillows, and leaned her sore, tired body back into their plushness. On either side of the bed on short tables sat two lanterns, which cast a gentle, golden glow over the small portion of the domed room where she lay—for it was so late, it was nearly early. There had been a thunderstorm earlier, for which she was glad—the thunder had hidden her screams. Now, though, it had cleared, and she could hear a nightingale singing in the gardens outside.

"Well done, my love," Odin whispered in her left ear. "You're a brave woman."

She smiled, and gazed down at the swaddled bundle held in the crook of her right arm, the weight of which rested against her breast and belly.

"I'm no braver than any other woman," she murmured.

"You are," he insisted, scooting closer so he could lay against her side and prop his elbow next to her head. "You now have _three_ sons."

Frigg's smile broadened as her gaze caressed the face of the newest, most delicate member of her family.

It _was _a boy—and already he had wisps of hair that looked like flax, they were so blonde. Also, when he was awake, his eyes were a startlingly-clear blue—brighter and lighter than Thor's. But at the moment, he slept—and she could hear his little breaths as his lower lip moved slightly.

Movement caught her attention. She lifted her face to see fire-headed Eir, her best friend and the master healer, stride silently into the room, ushering two tousle-headed little boys into the room in front of her.

Thor and Loki wore their night clothes, their hair was in disarray, and they had dark circles under their eyes—

But as soon as they saw her—saw _him_—their eyes went wide, and they hurried across the marble floor toward the bed on bare feet.

They slowed to a stop a few feet away, both of them staring with solemn, intense faces.

Odin shifted, then climbed up off the bed.

"Here, Thor—come round and lie by your mother. Loki, get up on this side so you can see."

Thor trotted around to the other side of the bed, and Odin mussed his hair gently as he passed him. Thor climbed up and scooted close to Frigg—she felt him press close to her.

Loki climbed up very carefully, as if afraid of jostling the infant—for he was closer to the baby than Thor.

"It's all right if he wakes up," Frigg assured her older sons. "He's been sleeping for almost an hour."

Loki glanced up at her to make sure, then did not hesitate to lean down onto her right side just as Thor leaned on her left. However, neither Thor nor Loki lay their heads down. They sat still, faces turned toward the baby.

"What's he called?" Thor asked.

"Balder," Frigg replied.

"Why?" Loki asked.

"You don't like the name?" Odin asked, sitting down at the foot of the bed, his blue eye twinkling at Loki. Frigg grinned at her husband. She felt Loki shrug.

"Just curious."

"It means," Frigg said. "'He who spreads the light.'"

Thor sat away, twisted around her, and frowned at Loki.

"You said it meant flowers or summer or something—that it was a _girl _name."

Loki sat up too, to face him.

"I heard them talking about it!" he protested.

"Oh, you did not," Thor scoffed.

"I _did_."

"Shush," Frigg scolded. "Loki probably _did _hear us talking about it—we wanted a lighter, softer name this time."

"What does my name mean?" Thor demanded.

"Thunder," Odin answered, chuckling.

"And that is the truth," Eir commented as she walked by with a pile of folded sheets. Her green eyes glittered. "_This_ babe tonight didn't come into the World Tree with _half _as much trouble as that little squall." She nodded toward Thor and winked. "I'll have you know, little man, that you kept your mother in labor for _two days_." She nodded significantly at Odin. "I swear, your father heard your mother all the way in Jotunheim."

"I believe I did," Odin gave a tender look to Frigg, which made her heart glow.

Thor just grinned, as if he was proud of the fact that he had been so difficult. Loki turned to Frigg, his black eyebrows coming together, his eyes penetrating. She studied his face and bright eyes in the candlelight.

"What about me?" he asked. Frigg again glanced past him at Odin—whose weathered face softened, and he smiled quietly. Frigg looked back at Loki.

"You weren't any trouble at all," she murmured.

Loki shot a satisfied look at Thor that was almost a smirk—it made Frigg laugh, which hurt her stomach. But it also bounced the baby—whose eyes flew open.

Thor and Loki froze.

Balder tried to focus—blinked a few times—then centered on Thor. Loki was still behind him. Balder's little brow furrowed, and he stared at his older brother. Frigg carefully glanced at Thor. Thor was frowning.

"Mumma," Thor said slowly.

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"Loki is always going to sit next to me at the table," he stated.

Frigg's eyebrows went up.

"What?"

Loki's attention turned from the baby to Thor. Thor looked at Frigg.

"I want Loki to sit next to me. I don't want the baby there instead."

Frigg felt a frown inside her heart. She glanced between her older sons—and saw genuine worry imprinted on their faces.

"Sweethearts," she said earnestly. "Either of you can sit wherever you want. If Loki wants to sit next to Thor, that is perfectly all right—he can sit there until the end of time. And when he is bigger, Balder can sit next to _me_, at the other end. That way, you two can keep Papa company, and I won't be lonely either." She paused, watching Loki. "Is that all right with you, _alslking?_ You can sit by Thor, or you can sit by me—you may choose."

Loki gazed back at her for a second, while Thor watched _him_. Then, Loki met Thor's eyes. For a long moment, they did not move. Then, Loki nodded.

"I will sit next to Thor."

Thor smiled, reached out, and patted Loki's head. Loki returned the smile, though in a quieter fashion. Then, Loki turned his attention down to the baby. Carefully, he reached out a delicate hand and stroked his fingertips across Balder's soft, flaxen head.

"I like him," Loki murmured. Thor scooted even closer to Frigg, laid his head on her shoulder, reached over and laid his hand down on Balder's little chest, and rubbed his fingers back and forth.

"Yeah, me too," Thor sighed. Frigg beamed, feeling Odin do the same. And for the few hours of night that remained, the five of them reclined on the bed, talking sleepily, warm and safe and content.

TO BE CONTINUED

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	4. Chapter 4

_I am so happy everyone is enjoying this! :D Thank you, and I hope it continues to give you pleasure!_

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FOUR

"_A father may turn his back on his child, _

_brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, _

_husbands may desert their wives, _

_wives their husbands. _

_But a mother's love _

_endures through all."_

~Washington Irving

Frigg leaned her elbows on the stone railing of the balcony attached to her chambers, tilted her face upward, closed her eyes and basked in the glow of the afternoon sunlight. The birds were having a heyday down in the lush maze of walled gardens below, the warm breeze just whispered, and the sky was as bright as Odin's gaze. She had finished her work for the day, had bathed and washed her hair, and she was now dressed in her most comfortable gown, determined to do nothing more now than relax and read.

Her chamber door opened. Then, it slammed shut. Her eyes came open and she frowned—

And glass smashed violently.

She whirled around, her heart hammering.

Loki's tall, lean form stormed in, wearing his finest, deep purple tunic, trousers and long coat that she had given him for his birthday—the last birthday he would have before he came of age. Frigg's eyes flew to the black vase on a table across the room from him, which now lay shattered, the water and windflower anemones spilled everywhere. Her mind spun—and then she realized he had hurled magic at it in a wild, uncontrolled rage.

"_Alskling?" _she gasped, stepping out of the sunshine and into her room. Loki paced back and forth, not looking at her, then raked his hands through his midnight hair.

"What's wrong?" she cried.

Loki spun around, so she could not see him, and suddenly stopped. She halted where she was, watching him.

For a long while, both were silent, and she could hear his unsteady breathing. Finally, he put his hand out and rested it on her vanity. He kept his back to her.

"I waited for several hours," he said, his voice low and rough. "Waited for him to finish an audience, then waited until I was admitted by the guard."

Frigg stepped nearer, listening. Loki began rubbing his forefinger back and forth on the smooth wood.

"I went into the throne room," he continued. "And came up next to him. He had papers in his lap. He told me he was busy. I told him it would only take a moment—and I showed him what I could do."

"You did?" Frigg reflexively smiled. "Finally?"

Loki nodded.

"I conjured that goblet for him—the one you told me he would recognize as your wedding cup. Then, I vanished it again. He told me that was impressive." His head lowered. She heard him swallow. "I offered him my services in the future, should he ever need the security of having something _really _hidden…" He paused again, this time for a very long while. And then, when he continued, his voice was barely under control. "And then Thor came in—just barged in—and told Father that Mjollnir had flown back to his hand, and he had to come see."

Frigg frowned sharply. Loki turned a little, so she could see his profile. His eyes stayed lowered.

"He got up," Loki murmured. "Got right up, and followed Thor, completely excited." Loki flicked a knick-knack on Frigg's vanity—it fell over with a clack. "Much more excited than he was about _my _little trick."

"Oh," Frigg said, letting out a shuddering sigh, suddenly at a loss. "I'm…I'm so sorry, _alskling_." She straightened, and stepped toward him again. "But you have to know that your father loves you, and _does_ appreciate yourgifts." She stretched out her hand to touch his shoulder.

He twitched away from her.

"That isn't true," he hissed, with such sudden venom as made her go pale.

"He loves Thor," Loki snarled, still not facing her. "And he dotes on Balder. I'm just the middle son—the inconvenience. Taking up space at the table." His voice lowered to a deadly tone. "He has no more regard for me than he does a servant."

"_No!"_ Frigg cried, unable to bear it anymore—and enraged at his thinking. "That is a wicked thought—a lie, and you must not say things like that. Loki, look at me. You must not—" She reached out and grabbed his arm, and turned him toward her. "You must not…"

He faced her. She stopped…

And saw that tears streamed down his face.

"Oh, _alskling!_" she said, instantly softening, stepping close to him and reaching up to cradle his face in her hands. Loki shuddered, and lowered his eyes and would not look at her. She firmly wiped away his tears with her thumbs. His brow twisted, those hard tension lines forming between his eyebrows. He swallowed convulsively, fighting tears.

"Loki, listen to me. I know he may not always show it," Frigg murmured ardently, holding him still. "And sometimes he is not the most tactful or considerate—but your father _loves _you. He loves you _greatly_, as he loves Thor and Balder and me. There is nothing he would not do for any member of his family. You must believe this."

Loki nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping, more tears falling. She quickly swiped them away.

"Oh, my dearest," she breathed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."

For a moment, they just stood there as Loki fought to compose himself. Frigg dropped her hands to his shoulders, and straightened his collar, then patted his broad chest.

"When did you get so big?" she wondered gently. "I remember when you came up to my hip, and no higher. I think…Yes, at the moment, you _are _taller than Thor. _That _will dismay him."

Loki let out an accidental, watery laugh, and Frigg smiled up at him. Finally, he looked at her—and she saw some of the light gleaming again in his emerald eyes. But then, his face regained its gravity, and he glanced to his right.

"I…I'm sorry," he whispered. "I broke your vase."

Frigg patted his cheek.

"Never mind that," she said. "Plenty more where it came from." She reached down, took his arm, and wrapped hers around it, then started walking with him toward the door. "Come with me. There are some beautiful blooming cranberry branches in your garden, and I need a new bouquet."

"Why do you need _me _to come?" Loki asked, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Frigg paused and glanced him up and down.

"Right now, you're the tallest man in Asgard," she said. "And you don't expect _me _to reach those branches, do you?"

Loki smiled again, more easily this time, and together they left her chambers, and the mess of windflowers Loki had made, behind them.

"_Life is the fruit she longs to hand you,  
>Ripe on a plate.<br>And while you live,  
>Relentlessly she understands you."<em>

~Phyllis McGinley

TO BE CONTINUED

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	5. Chapter 5

_Your reviews are so much fun to read—keep them up! Enjoy!_

VVVVV

FIVE

"_The formative period for building character for eternity_

_Is in the nursery. _

_The mother is queen of that realm _

_And sways a scepter more potent than that of kings or priests." _

~Unknown

Frigg smiled and ducked her head as laughter roared through the great, golden feasting hall. She sat at one end of the very long, packed table of courtiers who all wore their colorful, flowing finest, eating and chuckling and talking with nearly-deafening liveliness. She had finished her own meal, and now she rested in the bright glow of the surrounding torchlight, gazing down at the far end of the food-covered table where Odin, Thor and Loki sat.

"This is the best venison I've ever had," Balder commented from her left. She glanced at him. He was eating quickly, but with good manners that Thor _never _possessed. Balder had long, flaxen hair—his eldest brother was joining him in that rebellion against her wishes—pale, delicate skin, perfectly-formed features and bright, sparkling, animated eyes that missed nothing—especially an opportunity to smile at anyone. He was still slightly-built, not as broad as his brothers, for he would not come of age for a while.

Thor and Loki, however, just had. And in what a way they had come into their manhood.

"I swear to you, Father, if Loki had not stepped through their ranks at that exact moment, I would have fallen to my doom," Thor declared, loudly enough for her to hear it, slamming his stein down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Frigg rolled her eyes, wondering why in the World Tree she ever told the servants to put a napkin by his plate—he _never _used it.

Loki said something back to Thor, too quietly for her to make out the words, smirked at his brother, then took a sip of wine.

"Don't be a fool," Thor objected, turning to frown at him. "I'm indebted to you, Loki—I know that."

"Then I hope you plan to repay that debt, at least in part," Odin urged, leaning his elbows on the table and raising his eyebrows at his eldest. "Do you not have a gift for him?"

Loki choked on his wine. Frigg's eyes went wide.

Loki turned and looked up at his brother.

"I do indeed!" Thor announced. He stood up, his new red cape rustling down behind him. "Loki—my brother—come up here."

"Oh, no, really…" Loki shook his head, and Frigg saw him blush. Thor grinned at him. Frigg arched an eyebrow, knowing that Thor wasn't at all sensible of how shy Loki was. To make things worse, the rest of the court was now listening to them—especially Balder.

"Come on!" Thor prodded, gesturing firmly for him to follow. Loki cleared his throat, wiped his mouth on a napkin, then got to his feet, stepped over the bench, and up to his brother's side. Thor slung his arm around Loki's shoulders and led him up the few steps to the dais. Frigg gave them all her attention, wondering what Thor was up to.

When they got to the top, Thor turned Loki around to face everyone else, holding him still with a broad hand on his shoulder.

"My friends," Thor said, smiling. "Today, I set out on a quest—one that was fraught with adventure—and more peril than I had expected."

Everyone laughed. Frigg covered her smile with her hand. Balder watched.

"I was plunged in glorious battle, and Mjollnir's thirst for blood was quenched!" Thor continued, his strong voice echoing through the room. "But then, for the first time in my long life, I was caught unawares. The numbers of the enemy proved too great, even for my fists, and the might of Mjollnir. And even as the floor of the cavern tumbled away beneath my feet, Mjollnir was twisted from my grasp." Thor turned his gaze from the courtiers to Loki, a small smile on his face. "But call it wisdom or luck—or perhaps some of both—I had not come alone."

Everyone went quiet as Thor's frame grew still, and his face became serious. Loki did not look away from Thor.

"Loki, my younger brother, had walked and fought beside me in those caves, closer than my shadow," Thor said. "And it was in that moment, when I had lost all hope, that he snatched me from the icy teeth of death." Thor's smile broadened. "I fear his arm will never recover."

Loki did smile now, and ducked his head. Everyone else chuckled.

"So," Thor slapped his back, then let go of him. "I will endeavor to make amends by this." He dug in a leather pouch tied to his belt, and withdrew a shimmering silver chain, by which hung a gold pendant. Frigg sat up, frowning—but she could not see the shape of the pendant. Loki, however, looked suddenly quiet and impressed. He reached out and took hold of the jewelry.

"The workmanship is ingenious," he noted. "Who made it?"

"I did," Thor answered.

Loki lifted his stunned eyes to Thor's. Frigg felt a deep, warm glow envelope her heart.

"Remember what Father always says," Thor said, looking over at Odin. "There are two sides to Mjollnir. If I ask it to split mountains or crush bone, it will. But if I ask it to build or forge, it will do that as well." He stopped for a moment, and raised his eyebrows at Loki. "And I know where my true strength lies."

Loki was silent. And Frigg was too overcome to even breathe.

And just as Loki was opening his mouth to speak, Thor stepped up to him, hung the chain around his neck and clasped it. Then, Thor wrapped his arms hard around Loki, grasping a fistful of his dark hair. Hesitantly, Loki put his arms around his brother in answer.

Everyone burst into cheers and clapping. Thor withdrew from Loki, revealing a broad, brilliant, unadulterated smile on Loki's face that was so rare and stunning it brought tears to Frigg's eyes. Loki leaned closer to Thor's ear and said something to him, but it was drowned out by the cheers, and Thor responded by giving him a sunny grin.

And for an instant, the picture suspended in time.

Her two magnificent sons—Thor: tall, broad and mighty, golden-headed as a lion, his silver armor flashing, his scarlet robe arching over his shoulders and spilling down to his ankles, his eyes brilliant, his looks stunning, and his smile ready. And Loki: lean and elegant and precise in every movement, clad in emerald and black, his thoughtful, dark eyes catching everything, his unique face, having lost all its boyishness, now angular, striking and handsome.

Melancholy overshadowed Frigg's heart.

When had they become so tall, so strong, so fiercely beautiful?

Hadn't it just been yesterday that she had bent over their crib to cover them with the blanket they had kicked off?

When had her little Sunshine, and her tiny _Alskling_, grown up?

Frigg blinked, and came back to herself, as Thor again put an arm around Loki and they descended the stairs to return to the table. She glanced to her left.

Balder sat there very still, gazing in the direction of Thor and Loki, but his eyes were unfocused—and he was insensible of the noise all around him. Frigg canted her head.

"Sweetheart?" she said. "Something wrong?"

Balder sucked in a breath, then glanced over at her.

"No," he assured her, shaking his head. "Just thinking about something else."

She watched him a moment longer, but then he gave her a warm smile, leaned over and kissed her cheek. She could not help but smile in return, as he went back to eating his meal, and Loki, Odin and Thor roared with laughter at another joke at Thor's expense.

TO BE CONTINUED

_Review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_This one is short and potent—like a gunshot. During this portion, I listened to The Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack, "Gandalf's Fall," and Hayley Westenra's version of "The Coventry Carol."_

_Enjoy._

VVVVVVV

SIX

"The best conversations with mothers always take place in silence, when only the heart speaks."

~Carrie Latet

Frigg leaned sideways against a broad, cold stone pillar at the entrance to the broad balcony near the feasting hall, and wrapped her arms around her chest.

The icy air bit her face and fingers. She gazed out over the flat, low, gray sky. A shroud of pure white snow draped over the gardens, fields and hills below the palace. Slow, small flakes drifted straight down from the steely sky, unmoved by even a single breath of wind.

The flowers withered and bowed beneath the frost—the leafy branches of the trees hung low and burdened. All of them cut off in full life, full bloom. Dead, without a sound. Then covered in limitless, unbroken white. A white that Asgard had never known.

But Frigg saw nothing.

Lifeless tears ran down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. She did not feel them. Her eyes clouded with water, and she blinked slowly. Listlessly, her mind wandered, though it delved no deeper than faint recollections.

There had been an assassin among the Aesir.

With the force of weeping and potent pleading, the assassin had duped Frigg into casting a powerful spell around him that would protect him from any and all weapons—for he told her that he was terrified he was about to be murdered. And Frigg was unable to resist his plea—she had granted him, unquestioningly, the greatest protection she could give.

All the while, he had been planning to murder Thor, and then frame and execute Loki, instead.

And he would have succeeded—if Loki had not accidentally found out his true intentions.

Unable to tell anyone the truth, for he feared for all their lives, Loki had secretly used magic and council from an old mentor to discover that an arrow of mistletoe could possibly break the invincibility spell that surrounded the would-be assassin—which would enable Thor to at least defend himself.

But the arrow had done a great deal more.

It had indeed broken the spell—

And then shafted through the assassin's heart.

Frigg stood away from the pillar, wrapping her arms tighter and tighter around her

chest, fearing she was about to tear apart.

Under other circumstances, Asgard would have been quietly glad that their two princes were safe from harm.

Instead, the whole kingdom was draped in blackest mourning.

For the assassin had been Balder.

Her little Balder.

The one whose goodness and sweetness of temper no one had ever doubted.

The one who had in fact been the wickedest of all of them.

And Loki had killed him.

A gust of wind blew the snow toward her. The icy flakes struck her face, caught in her long hair.

She knew about all that had happened. Heimdall had confirmed everything.

And she could not speak, or eat or sleep or think—she could barely breathe.

She closed her eyes. Tears squeezed out and trickled down. Dull sickness rotted inside her chest, her gut, her lower stomach. She still smelled ash in her hair from the burning of the funeral ship.

A quiet presence slid into the back of her awareness. She did not turn. Her hazy eyes opened, and she stared blindly at the floor ahead of her.

The shadow moved closer, soundless. At the edge of her vision, a dark form finally clarified.

A tall young man, clothed in midnight from his throat to his wrists to his feet. He had a face as white as the snow in the fields behind him, and disheveled hair as black as ink that hung around his narrow face, pale brow and stark, brilliant, distant eyes—eyes that looked like the gray dawn. She looked up at him.

He looked back at her. Another gust of wind came. It ruffled his hair, his outer collar. Her gown moved, as did strands of her hair.

A slight shiver ran through his frame. He fixed on her face. His brow tensed—his eyebrows drew together, forming tight lines between them, almost like a painful snarl above the bridge of his nose. His emerald eyes flickered, searching her features. The light reflected by the snow cast across them. The white flakes landed on his black clothes, dotting them like stars in the night sky. They did not melt. He swallowed. His expression opened.

Then, his head bowed away, and he flinched. He stepped toward her.

Then, as if each slow movement hurt him to the core, he knelt on the stone at her feet. She stayed still.

He came up on his knees, closed his eyes, and pressed his face into her belly. He took a gasping, muffled breath. Then, he brought his shaking hands up to hesitantly rest on her waist.

Frigg choked, and squeezed her eyes shut hard.

And Loki wound his arms around her, took fistfuls of her gown, and let out a howling sob. The cry wracked through every fiber in her body.

She broke down, tears spilling down her face, bent and wrapped her arms around his head and shoulders, winding her fingers tight through his hair.

Then, slowly, she sank down onto her knees as well, and enfolded his suddenly weak form in her arms. He clung to her desperately, torn with weeping, pressing his face against her neck.

And without a word, Frigg knelt there, stroking the back of his head with a quivering hand, staring out over the dead, frost-locked landscape, as the listless wind blew a cloak of snow around them, and chilled their already cold tears.

"_The heart of a mother is a deep abyss _

_at the bottom of which _

_you will always find forgiveness."_

~Honoré de Balzac

TO BE CONTINUED

_Please review_


	7. Chapter 7

_I am sorry that it has been so long since I last updated…And yet, I think it is actually perfect. And I believe there may only be one or two more chapters left to write after Thor 2 is released…_

_Enjoy._

_VVVVV_

SEVEN

_"Mother's love is peace. _

_It need not be acquired, _

_It need not be deserved."_

~Erich Fromm

Frigg stood very still, eyes closed, listening to the deep rush of water as it tumbled over the edge of the world and into the starry abyss below. A fresh, salty breeze touched her face and hair, and rustled the lengths of her skirts. She opened her eyes.

Before her stretched eternity.

On and on, infinitely, lay the vast and impossible void of space, dotted with far distant realms and colorful stars. But, though it seemed as though she could reach out her hand and touch any one of them…

Her way might as well have been blocked by a fortress wall. For at her feet lay the jagged, broken edge of the Asbru bridge.

Frigg lowered her hand. She hadn't realized that she had held it out. She closed her fingers, the inside of her chest stinging. Far away, lonely gulls cried. She let out a long, low sigh.

She had not spoken to her husband. Not a word. Not since he and Thor had returned from the breaking of the bridge, and recounted to her what had happened to Loki.

What Odin had _done. _

To her Loki.

She gazed down, down into the black chasm before her. She stood for hours, unmoving.

Finally, as the sky darkened behind her, and the lights of the city began to twinkle, she turned and slowly made her way back up the long, glimmering bridge.

It took her another two hours to complete her journey, for she walked slowly, and she could think of no reason in all the realms that she ought to hurry. She trailed up the wooded pathways, through the quiet, dusky streets and into the palace. The torches, lamps and candles had been lit for the evening, casting a dim and lonely glow amidst the corridors. Her feet tapped softly as she trailed down the marble hall toward her private quarters. She passed a hand over her face, then worked the cool latch of her golden door and pushed it open.

She paused.

A low fire in her hearth off to her right cast a subdued golden light across her chambers. And sitting in that half light, on the edge of her bed, was Thor.

Wearing his draping red night clothes. His hands clasped before him, his head bowed, his hair hanging about his face. He did not lift his head.

"Thor?" Frigg murmured, stepping in and shutting the door. "Is something wrong?"

She crossed to him, her skirts rustling, and carefully sat down on the bed next to his strong right side. She studied his bearded profile in the flickering flamelight. His sky-blue eyes stared distantly at the rug in front of him, his brow knitted.

"I had another nightmare," he rumbled quietly. "But tonight…I could not wake up from it. And I saw it through all the way to the end."

"What did you dream about?" Frigg asked, lifting her hand and rubbing it to and fro across his muscled back.

"It doesn't matter," he shook his head once. "What matters…is that I did not wake up."

"Oh. Loki always wakes you up when you are dreaming, doesn't he?" Frigg whispered, rubbing back and forth, back and forth…

Thor did not move for a long moment.

Then, his face twisted.

He covered it with his hand, and a terrible tremor passed through his mighty frame.

"Oh, sh, sh," Frigg soothed, that stinging agony battering through her as she slipped closer to him, wrapping her left arm around him as far as she could.

"I am so sorry," he choked, dropping his hand as tears streaked his face. "I am sorry I disobeyed Father and attacked Jotunheim, I'm sorry—if I had not, Loki would never have found out that…I'm sorry I was banished, and that because of me, Father's strength failed, I'm sorry I fought with Loki, I'm sorry I could not catch him…"

"Oh, dearest, please don't cry," Frigg urged, stroking his hair away from his fevered temple and tucking it behind his ear.

"I am so sorry," he swallowed painfully. "I know he was always your favorite."

The words went through Frigg like a blade. She stared at him. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Then, she gripped the collar of his night shirt. Hard.

"Thor," she said. "Thor, listen to me."

His sobbing hitched, and he gulped again. She leaned in close to him.

"Ever since the _moment_ you were born, you've brought me more happiness than any mother could ask for," she whispered urgently. "You are bright and happy, and so _very_ brave. Oh, my dear—how I worry for you when you are away from Asgard—how I worried for you during your banishment. And how…How _proud _I am of you for standing up to your brother while still trying to protect him."

Thor broke down. She shook her head, took hold of him, turned him toward her and took his lion-like face in her hands. His tear-filled eyes met hers. She met them with a fiery gaze.

"You have always been my sunshine, my first dear little boy—one I would die for without a moment's hesitation." She rubbed his tears away with her thumbs. "You cannot _imagine_," she breathed. "How much I love you."

He squeezed his eyes shut. She pulled his golden head against her heart, wrapped her arms around him, and he bound his arms around her waist, and said no more.

_Many dark, dangerous and uncertain months later…_

Frigg stood alone in her chambers, staring out the darkened back window. She held one arm tight around her middle, and pressed the fingers of her other hand to her lips. She counted her breaths, her eyesight unfocused. Silence reigned, except for the restless crackling of the fire in her fireplace.

Thor had left not two days ago. Sent, in a hurricane of volatile magic, back to Midgard. To find Loki.

And the infinitely-dangerous tesseract.

But nothing had gone as planned.

Upon being reunited, her two sons had collided, sparked—and combusted.

A war had broken out. A full-scale war that had begun to rip Midgard to pieces—with Loki at the head of one army, and Thor at the head of the force opposing him.

Heimdall had told Frigg and Odin everything as it happened, blow by blow. But as the distant and unreachable violence escalated, Frigg found it harder and harder to breathe—

Until at last she had barricaded herself in her room, commanding that her quarters be surrounded by absolute silence until word could be sent to her that both her sons were alive.

A full day of this cloistered silence had passed. She had eaten nothing, and spoken to no one. She just listened to the fire, and counted her breaths.

_Knock, knock, knock_.

"I asked for silence," she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

The other person paused.

Then spoke.

"I brought you something I found."

She froze.

Pressed her hand to her mouth.

Thor.

It was _Thor._

She spun around. Stared at the thick door of her chambers. Did not dare step toward it.

"What…" she tried. "What is it?"

"Come look."

She could not move for several seconds. Then, at last, she forced one foot forward…

And she raced across the rug. Grasped the handle, turned it and _pulled_—

Two men stood outside.

One—the towering, mighty form of Thor. Weary, his head turned away, his armor stained.

And also…

A tall, lean, dark figure directly before her.

Battered, dirty armor; torn black riding coat. Disheveled, feathery raven hair. A white, narrow, carven face, bruised and clamped over by a metal mask that hid his mouth and chin. Pale, slender hands cuffed and bound in front of him.

And eyes—eyes of limitless, shining emerald that met and captured hers…

His brow instantly knotted, he gulped, and his head tilted in pain.

"_Loki!" _she cried, her entire being crying his name. She flew at him, scrabbling at the wicked device that covered his face. She let it loose, pulled it off of him.

"Mumma," he gasped, his cut lips moving almost before muzzle came free. She threw it on the ground. Crystal tears lit his vivid eyes and spilled down his face. She leaped up and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, my baby, my baby boy!" she wept. He gasped and stumbled toward her, his arms twitching up, tugging awkwardly.

"Oh, oh!" she cried, pulling back. "Get these…Get these _foul _things off!" She gripped the manacles, burning magic pulsing through her fingers, and twisted them. They broke like twigs, and fell to the floor. They had barely tumbled loose before Loki fell into her arms, wrapping his own desperately around her, letting out short, stifled cries of panic and relief. She caught hold of him and twisted her hands through his hair, burying her face in his collar and holding him so tight she knew he could not breathe. He shivered violently, his whole body cold—she pulled back and kissed his chilly, tearstained face rapidly, all over it, before embracing him even more fiercely.

"We cannot stay," Thor warned. Frigg blinked her own tears away, then reached out her left hand toward him without letting go of Loki.

"Oh, Thor! My dear—come here, I am so glad you are safe!"

Thor did not come nearer.

"The guard his coming," he said instead. "I had to sneak him up here to see you before his trial."

Frigg jerked.

"Trial?"

Marching footsteps resounded through the hall. Four of the royal guard, their armor flashing, strode up to them—

And took hold of Loki's shoulders.

Tore him out of her arms.

"Loki—!"

He straightened, his expression turning to stone. Twin tears fell down his icy cheeks.

"It's all right, Mother," he rasped as they grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back. "It's all right. It's all right."

"Thor, where is your father—"

"He is waiting in the throne room," Thor answered, not looking at either of them. New manacles clacked around Loki's wrists. Loki stared straight ahead of him, seeing nothing.

"I'll not stand for this," Frigg declared. "Release him. This instant."

"They cannot," Thor answered. "Father is waiting."

"What—Odin ordered this?" Frigg demanded.

"Yes," Thor's brow twitched. He still would not look at her. "He is waiting for you, too."

Frigg ground her teeth.

"I imagine he is," she snarled. "Then let us not keep him waiting." And she strode out of her room. One of the guards grabbed Loki's elbow and jerked him around.

Frigg whirled, and slapped the guard across the face.

"Your majesty!" he yelped, holding a hand to his cheek, his eyes wide.

"Remember your place, Hallen, son of Funhin," she snapped. "Guilty or innocent of _any _crime—this is my son. A prince of Asgard." She lifted her chin. "And his life is worth ten of yours."

"Yes, your majesty," Hallen whispered.

"Now," Frigg glared at him—seeing a ghost of a smile cross Loki's mouth—"We shall go and see the king."

_"If I was damned of body and soul,  
>I know whose prayers would make me whole,<br>Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine."_

~Rudyard Kipling

_To be continued…_

_Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Last chapter of this one, my friends._

_The passage at the beginning is from Seamus Heaney's translation of "Beowulf"_

_The song has already been used:)_

_I listened to "Sorrow" from the Gladiator Soundtrack, then "Letting Go" from the Thor soundtrack._

_Enjoy_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER EIGHT

_"Perhaps we are given a mom _

_that we might take into death _

_the memory of a lullaby." _

_~Robert Brault_

"_The Geat people built a pyre for Beowulf_

_ stacked and decked it until it stood four-square,_

_ hung with helmets, heavy war-shields_

_ and shining armor, just as he had ordered._

_ Then his warriors laid him in the middle of it,_

_ Mourning a lord far-famed and beloved._

_ On a height they kindled the hugest of all_

_ Funeral fires; fumes of woodsmoke_

_ billowed darkly up, the blaze roared_

_ and drowned out their weeping, wind died down_

_ and flames wrought havoc in the hot bone-house,_

_ burning it to the core. They were disconsolate_

_ and wailed aloud for their lord's decease._

_ A Geat woman too sang out in grief;_

_ with hair bound up, she unburdened herself_

_ of her worst fears, a wild litany_

_ of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,_

_ enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,_

_ slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke."_

Loki took a shallow breath, reached up and turned the page of the small book. The crisp _flick _of that motion clicked through the room. Silence followed. Always silence.

Out of the corner of his left eye, he caught a glimmer of gold.

A shining, man-shaped form approached the transparent wall of Loki's cell. One of the guards. His feet tapped on the stones. Loki did not look up at him. Probably just bringing more food Loki wouldn't eat, or more books…

"Your Highness."

Loki frowned. Minutely.

_Your Highness?_

Hm.

He waited.

"Your Highness," the guard said again, quietly. Carefully. "I have been sent to tell you that the Dark Elves attacked the palace. They penetrated the inner chambers, and killed the Queen. The King is now conducting her funeral."

Loki heard.

He nodded.

The guard stepped away.

Loki put down his book.

Deliberately, he climbed to his feet. He turned his back on the transparent wall, and stepped toward the center of his cell.

_"And am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

His ribs constricted.

_"Try the stairs to your left."_

_ "Try the stairs to your left."_

_ "Try the stairs to your left…"_

_ "Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

_ "You are not."_

_ "You are not."_

He closed his hands to fists. His nails bit into his palms.

"_Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

Power flared through him—like the lash of a whip—unconscious as a gag reflex.

_Bam!_

Tables and chairs went flying. Slammed back against the magicked walls.

All of a sudden, his breathing started coming in short, rabbit-like gasps—his chest would not expand.

It hurt. It hurt.

_"Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

His eyes widened as his vision flickered from black to too white, to red, to blurry, to far too clear.

_"Try the stairs to your left."_

_ "Try the stairs to your left."_

He tugged at his collar. It was choking him, choking him.

_"Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

He whirled around. He charged at the invisible wall, lowered his shoulder and slammed into it

A terrible _zap_ shot through his whole body.

"Let me out!" he roared, his darting glance raking through the prison, searching for that guard. He couldn't see him, couldn't see him. "_Let me out! _Let me out or I will _kill you!_ Let me out of here!" He clawed at the wall—a sound like taut metal cord scraping across stone rang through the cell.

"Get me out of here!" he howled, his voice raging through the dungeon. "You are lying to me! I will tear out your tongue, you filthy, deceitful, treasonous—you…How _dare _you say something like that to me? Let me _out _of this blasted cell! Come back here and _let me out!_ " He beat on the wall with his fists—reared back and _punched _it, then punched it again, ignoring the pain that lanced up through his bones.

No one came. The guard could not hear him.

Or he wouldn't.

"I will kill your family, do you understand me, coward? Come back and open this door!" he spat, tearing at the wall with his fingers. He slammed his shoulder into it again, and again.

The wall flickered and sparked, but it held more resolutely than if it had been made of ancient stone.

"_Aaaaah!" _he shrieked, summoning everything in him, down to his depths, and slapping both palms against it.

He crushed it with a blast of raw, thunderous magic.

It ricocheted off—battered deafeningly back through the cell, shivering the furniture to pieces, sending books to flight, their pages bursting the feathers of shot quail.

_"Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

Loki spun back around, gulping sickeningly, his eyes wide but blind. He started shaking—it started with his fingers, then raced up his arms, into his chest and head until his whole frame quivered.

"_Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

He screamed.

He screamed for her.

He staggered toward the corner pillar, felt for it with his left hand—fell against it.

"Mother—Mother, I know you can hear me!" he shouted. "Mother…Not…You must…I know you can, stop toying with me. He's…There's a…He's lying to me. Frigga…_Frigga_…" He bumbled against the other wall.

Waited.

Silence.

"_Mumma!" _He howled at the ceiling, searching for the blurry back wall—

Tripped over a fallen table.

Crashed to the floor.

His hands clattered and slipped over broken wood—his chin hit an edge. He bit himself.

He writhed into a half sitting position and tore at his hair. Tore it again, and again, ripping it as he roared in body-rending screams.

He caught at his collar, then tore off his outer tunic—flung it away from him. He tugged off his boot and hurled it at the transparent wall with all his strength, then pulled off the other and did the same. They bounced harmlessly off and landed on the floor.

"_Am I not your mother?"_

_ "You are not."_

_ "Try the stairs to the left."_

He blazed to his feet, his vision scarlet. He kicked the tables, the broken chairs. He picked up the flinders and threw them—they _snapped _against the walls. He attacked the even the walls made of stone, leaving bloody smears.

He destroyed every bit of furniture, smashing it beneath his feet until sharp, lancing pain sliced through his skin. Cold sweat broke out all over his body.

He started to shake again.

His legs turned to water.

He collapsed, sat down. Fell back against the wall.

And sobbed.

Tears streamed down his face. His chest choked and locked and _hurt_. The burning salt water dripped from his chin and soaked the front of his linen shirt.

He wept, and no one heard him.

He cried aloud, kicking his feet and covering his face with his hands…

But no one came.

For hours, the tears flowed as freely as the blood from his feet.

His tears ran out.

He could summon no more.

And his entire body ached as if he had been beaten.

He blinked slowly, staring at nothing. His hands lay limp on his lap.

His parched lips parted. His stale tongue moved.

His voice rasped, barely audible.

_"The sky is dark and the hills are white  
>As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night;<br>And this is the song the storm-king sings,  
>As over the world his cloak he flings:<br>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;'  
>He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:<br>'Sleep, little one, sleep._

_On yonder mountain-side a vine  
>Clings at the foot of a mother pine;<br>The tree bends over the trembling thing,  
>And only the vine can hear her sing:<br>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;  
>What shall you fear when I am here?<br>Sleep, little one, sleep._

_The king may sing in his bitter flight,  
>The pine may croon to the vine to-night,<br>But the little snowflake at my breast  
>Liketh the song <em>I_ sing the best, -  
>'Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;<br>Weary thou art, anext my heart;  
>Sleep, little one, sleep…"<em>

FIN

(to be continued in _Frozen Heart)_

_Review!_

_Don't forget to check out my newest novel "Bauldr's Tears: A Retelling of Loki's Fate" on Amazon!_


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